Victorian Halloween: Halloween in the Victorian Era Old Ghost Stories

Victorian Halloween

According to the History Channel, there was a movement in the late 19th Century to move away from a focus on ghosts and witchcraft during Halloween to more fun, neighborly get-togethers and parties. Generally, our modern focus on ghosts seems to be more about dressing up to score candy and treats as opposed to scaring away evil souls. Many early 20th Century postcards contain traditionally "spooky" subjects turned into cuter, less scary renditions. But during the Victorian Era, ghosts were ghosts, and October 31st was a time to be afraid. Nightfall didn't give way to the electric glow of well-lit rooms and the comforting distractions of music, television and computers. Instead, candles, gas and moonlight conspired to create eerie shadows on the walls, and the dead October leaves danced like delirious sprites into the dark landscape. Neighbors were far apart, and Halloween was ripe for mischief- but who would hear you scream?

The Mystery of Monk's Hollow

Peterson's Magazine, October 1878
By J. Keith

One evening, Edith and Edmund Brandwaite stood together at the window, looking out into the fast thickening gloom. The night threatened to be a stormy one. Sudden gusts of wind dashed the raindrops against the panes; a black fog was driving in from the wood; every moment the view without grew more and more desolate.

"What outer darkness!" Edmund had exclaimed, as, coming in from the dinner table, where Edith had left him with a cigar, he found his young wife leaning close against the glass, with her forehead pressed against the cold pane. "Dearest," he continued, winding his arm about her waist, "do come away. You will be chilled. See, turn to the warmer, brighter prospect within. Forget the night and the storm - they are not for you, love."

"Ah, Edmund! Night and storm, such as this, cannot hurt us." And giving way, before him, for the first time, to her secret fears, she added: "I fear nothing but the power of spiritual evil."

She turned her face to him, for a moment, and he saw that it was deathly white. Then he felt her shudder, through her whole body, in his encircling arms.

"You are ill dearest," he cried, in alarm. "You have a chill…"

She smiled faintly at him, and turned from the window. "I am not sick, but…" and her voice sank to a whisper, and she clung fondly to him, "isn't there a superstition -of course it's only a superstition- that, when somebody is walking over your grave, you shudder involuntarily? Tonight, somebody is walking over my grave -and somehow, somehow, I feel as it would not be long before I fill it."

"Nonsense my love," said Brandwaite, for the first time since he had known her, speaking as if vexed. "Your nerves are unstrung. You must not give way to them in this fashion. I thought you had more courage."

"More courage?" said Edith, hurt and stung to self-assertion. "No one shall ever say I want courage. But-"

She started and stopped short, for at that moment, a long-drawn shriek, as of someone in peril, the very shriek she had heard before, rung through the castle. Again and again it rose; died down; and rose again.

Edith staggered against the wall; she trembled so she could not stand. But her husband, who should have been there to support her, was gone. At the first sound of the awful cry, he had rushed from the room; and as Edith pressed her hand to her heart, she heard his fast receding steps echoing in the distance.

She was left alone, to meet the coming horror, whatever it might be…

Unfortunately the story cuts off at that point for the October issue, so we must wonder at what poor Edith faced!